Inbetween
by SS Dispatch
Summary: What happened between the day Will met his son and the day his son saved him? What did Elizabeth and Henry go through as they waited for the twentieth year to come? Sequel to Dear Will.
1. One Week After

**A/N: This is sequel to my fanfiction "Dear Will". It's not mandatory to read it ahead of time, but I high recommend it. In the very least, I might direct your attention to the last chapter that details Will's one day on land at the end of the first ten years. This fic will detail the next ten.**

* * *

 _One Week After Will's Departure_

Elizabeth headed in from the garden, her work clothes coated in a thin layer of dirt. When she gardened she much preferred wearing her loose pants, which were conveniently brown and didn't show how much dirt was on the knees. She headed inside with her basket full of produce: yams, callaloo, tomato, cucumber, and carrot. Domesticity was still not a strong suit for her, but she was able to easily enjoy the gardening. The sun was close to setting, and as she always did, she glanced at the horizon once before stepping inside. She dropped her basket down on the table and called for Henry to come down and help her clean off the produce. After a moment, he appeared from his bedroom upstairs, where he had been hiding quite a lot lately.

He came into the room and grabbed a small brush as he plopped down at the table, dusting the vegetables listlessly. Elizabeth quietly sat down beside him, working the caked dirt off the yams. She glanced at him suspiciously. He had been uncharacteristically morose ever since Will had left them. It was not as if he alone was still grieving his absence, Elizabeth too struggled to readjust to life without Will. But she was an adult, and she had been more mentally prepared for his continued absence. She supposed Henry had quietly hoped that Will was not going to leave again, despite everything she had told him. "Henry?" She asked gently. He didn't look up, just made a noncommittal noise. "Is everything alright?"

"I miss him."

She let out a soft sigh, "I know. I miss him too. He'll be back again, dear."

"In ten years!" Henry suddenly cried in frustration, tossing his carrot across the table. The tiny brush in his other hand crashed to the floor. Elizabeth didn't respond right away, she just looked at him. He seemed to interpret her silence as permission to continue. "I can't wait ten years! I'll be an adult by then! How old are you and father?"

"Around thirty."

"Then what if he's not alive in ten years?! What about you? The oldest person on this island is fifty four. One day we'll wait to see him and he'll never show because he's dead and we'll never have laid him to rest." By now, Henry was bursting into angry tears. "We need him home. He needs to be here."

Elizabeth's heart was cracking. She knew her son was right. But, "There's nothing we can do about it." She whispered under her breath.

Henry pushed his chair back and hollered incoherently again, furious with his father's fate. He stormed up the steps into his room, slamming the door behind him. The young boy collapsed on his small bed and weeped as his mother stifled her own tears. She reminded herself, sternly, that she had to be strong for Will. She would not write of this, never. He didn't need to know. It would only hurt him, and she had promised to avoid that whenever possible. She gave up on trying to tend to her chore and piled the few clean vegetables back into the basket and placed it in the cool pantry. She'd worry about it later. Neither of them had eaten, but she knew that neither of them would want to now. So instead, she quietly moved to the sitting room and set to work mending an old dress. She worked until the natural light had faded and headed upstairs to bed, tiptoeing carefully around Henry's room. But little did she know that he was not sleeping at all in his room, instead he was piecing things together.

His many books he had borrowed from an old teacher on sea mythology, a few wanted posters he had seen around town of the most dangerous pirates, and his lists tallying his father's return were scattered across his desk. The night air blew in through his window and stirred the papers around a bit. He grabbed a blank one and dipped his quill in the ink pot at his desk. This was where and how he would write the occasional letter to his father. But that was not what he was doing tonight. No, he was trying to write down all he remembered about his father's curse:

 _10 years at sea, one day ashore. Ferry souls from sea to the other side. Those who die at sea are brought over by father._

And then it struck him what he would have to do to see his father again.

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open. It was still dark. She glanced out the window and saw the relatively large moon in the sky. What had woken her? She pricked her ears, waiting to hear something only to hear the breeze shifting outside. She couldn't help but have a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stepped out of bed in her nightgown and stepped down the hall quietly. She eased the door to her son's room open quietly. His desk was a mess, but other than that nothing looked particularly out of sorts. The breeze blew in aggressively and flipped the edge of his blanket a bit. She stepped in and went to pull the blanket up over him, only to realize that his body was abnormally … crinkly. She whipped back the sheet and saw it was nothing but crumpled up paper. Aside from her immediate fear, she was irritated at the waste of valuable paper. She tried to rationalize that he had just gone down to eat something, having missed dinner. She sped down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen only to find it empty.

"HENRY!" She screamed louder than she meant to. The windows open, her voice scaring small nighttime creatures in the area. When nobody responded, she lost it. Her mind was completely whirling with possibilities. Who had come back from the dead to take her son from her? Was this a new enemy? Out to cause a rise in the captain of the _Dutchman_? Perhaps an enemy of the Brethren court? She raced outside, heading toward the lighthouse. If there was an enemy that had captured him it would have been by ship, and they could not have gotten far. Part of her wondered if it was Jack causing trouble when he didn't need to. She didn't put anything past that man. She raced toward the hill that, not too long ago, her husband and son had had sparring practice on. She looked out at the horizon, eyes scanning the sea quickly. All she saw was a rumbling of ripples and waves in the middle of the sea, a small rowboat caught in the waves and being rocked toward shore. Nothing of consequence.

The boat had seemed abandoned, but just as Elizabeth was starting to turn away she saw someone suddenly sit up in the boat and start rowing to shore. The figure was shorter than the average man. "I swear," She whispered under breath and cursed as she ran down the natural slope of the outlook toward the sand. Their sandcastle was still there. She stood impatiently under the gaze of the pearly moon. It didn't take long for her to confirm it was her son rowing toward her. He seemed to hesitate and tried to steer parallel to the shore, avoiding what he knew would be a furious mother. "Henry William Turner you come here this instant!" She shouted across the rapidly calming waters. Her voice carried across toward him and he sighed in defeat, rowing back toward her again. She did not wait for the small boat to run aground.

She raced into the water, barefoot, and reached the boat. "What are you doing?" She asked furiously, yanking the boat toward the shore. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I didn't think you would wake up."

"Henry, explain yourself right now!" She let go of the small scrap of wood as it pulled through the wet sand. Henry stepped out of the boat and Elizabeth realized he was soaking wet. "Were you swimming? Why the devil were you swimming in the middle of the —" She glanced down into the boat and saw a small, hand painted map. "Henry…"

"I had to see him."

She was silent as she pieced two and two together.

"I knew he would come and get me. I wasn't really doing anything dangerous."

Elizabeth was shaking with the intensity of the emotions running through her: rage, sorrow, terror. It was a dangerous cocktail.

"Mum?"

She could not think of anything to say. She turned away from him and headed toward the incline of the hill, gesturing for him to follow. Her silence was scaring Henry. He knew she would be mad, but not like this. A pang of grief hit her as she thought to herself _I know I should punish him. I wonder what Will would think is the most effective method._ He could never parent him. And then it dawned on her that she needed to know exactly what had happened. She spun around and Henry froze. She kneeled in front of him, "I'm still outraged. But I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

He told her in the simplest terms how he had tried to drown himself, only for the _Dutchman_ to swoop out of the sea and save him. He told her that Will was mad at him as well for having come out to find him. He did not tell her his plan to rescue his father. "And then he said he loved me and sent me back up. And just as I got into my boat is when you showed up."

An unreadable expression passed her face. All she could manage was a simple, "Thank you for telling me." She stood and turned back toward the path to their home again. She walked him back up to his room and as she stood in the doorway murmured, "You will never try that again. Ever."

"Yes mother." Henry said sadly as he cleared the papers from his bed and peeled off his sopping wet clothes. She sighed and quickly grabbed a large, thick sheet from her room. She draped it around her son, "The last thing I need is for you to get a cold and die." She said a bit bitterly as she rubbed his skin aggressively to get the warmth back in it. She ran the sheet over his hair and shook her head, "You'll sleep with me tonight. I can't guarantee you won't still freeze to death on your own." He looked a bit nervous, "Don't worry, I won't get mad at you until tomorrow." He smiled briefly as he grabbed some dry pyjama clothes and changed into them, grateful that his mom wasn't going to strangle him in his sleep (not that he sincerely thought she would).

As her son changed she slipped back into her room and switched from her half damp gown to a fresh one quickly, lying down in her bed and sighing to herself. What an exasperating life she lead. Henry gently knocked at the half shut door. "Come in," She mumbled. He stepped in and crawled into the bed, lying on his stomach and burying his face in the other pillow. It had been Will's for a day. Somehow, his scent still lingered there. She could hear him inhale deeply. She was slightly jealous she had seen him that night, but she knew that it had not been worth the risk and she could not afford to do the same thing he had. There was always the chance, with a stunt like that, that he would be unable to rescue her in time if he was busy ferrying other souls. Elizabeth reached out and gently scratched her small son's back, something that had soothed him most of his life. He relaxed quickly, though did not fall asleep immediately.

"I want you to know that I'm not mad that you wanted to see your father. I'm upset because I was afraid I might lose you. I have already lost him. I cannot bear to lose you too."

"I know," He whispered softly before yawning. His eyes fluttered shut and a lock of hair fell over his eyes. She tucked it back and petted his hair down lovingly. She knew there was a chance that Will would die before they could meet again, or even that she could die before that day. But it reassured her to know that at least a part of Will could be with her for the rest of her life. She thought of his heart sitting in the chest hidden in the closet of the room. He was watching over them, he was with them always.

* * *

 _A/N: Let me clarify one tidbit. In the fifth film the credits list young Henry as 12 years old when he visits his father. I find this totally ludicrous, because according to the film Henry would have been 21 when he saved his father, and that means the second day on land since the curse was inflicted had happened and was not shown. So, for me, it just made more sense for this scene to occur almost immediately after his first return so that when Henry rescues Will it is when he is approx. 18-19 years old, before Will's second return._


	2. Departure

_One year after_

"Mum?" Henry asked quietly as they ate their stew at the table together. She didn't look up when she responded, "Yes dear?"

"Do you know anything about Jack Sparrow?"

She froze. The spoon was halfway to her mouth. She dropped it in the bowl involuntarily. She sighed, "It's Captain Jack Sparrow."

"So you do know him?" Henry asked, perking up in his chair with his eyebrows raised.

A hundred memories flicked through her mind, most of which she would rather have forgotten. "Yes, I know him."

"What can you tell me about him?" Henry pressed further, completely forgetting the food in front of him. His mother sighed in exasperation. She had plenty of things she _could_ have told him, but she felt no desire to tell him any of it. "Nothing. He's a filthy pirate, that's all. Everyone around here knows who he is, he was imprisoned here once after all."

"He was?"

"Henry, please. Stop asking questions. I would rather not talk about pirates at the dinner table." She admonished, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

"But if father's a pirate, isn't the best way to save him to get help from another pirate?"

Elizabeth stuffed a heaping spoonful of stew in her mouth so she didn't have to say anything else. Henry waited patiently, unperturbed by her tactics. Finally, she realized there was no dodging around this. She ran a hand through her long hair, absently thinking of trimming the ends off tomorrow, "Henry, your father's curse cannot be broken."

The light seemed to fade in Henry's eyes. But something else remained as strong as ever. "Why is it that both of you have given up all hope?" She glanced at him and didn't say anything as she finished her food. "He said the same thing when I saw him. But I'm not going to give up, not ever. I will bring him home, mum. And when I do, I'll be sure you're there to see it." He was choking up with frustration and pushed away from the table before storming off. She shook her head as he left the room. She was out of hope. She knew that there was nothing that could bring her husband home permanently. She had resigned herself to this life with little fuss. Sometimes she absently wondered if it would be better for her to move on, to find another man to provide and care for her since Will was unable to while at sea. But she knew she could never bring herself to do it. She loved him too much, even when they were apart for so long.

But Henry was optimistic, and Henry had faith because he was going to find the trident and rescue his father. Just - not today. He didn't think he was old enough or smart enough to go across the seas to find such a rare item to save his father's soul. But as he sat at the desk in his room he crafted a plan, one that would hopefully get him in the right place to find the trident.

 _Two and a Half Years After_

Elizabeth was sitting on a bench she had put in her garden recently. She sat and sewed a patch into her favorite slip dress. She was fairly confident she had danced around a bonfire with Jack on a beach in it. But she could have been wrong. After all, how could that slip have survived everything? She recalled having changed out of it and into pants the night they were ambushed on Isla de Muerta. Perhaps she had left it on Norrington's ship and her father had acquired it for her and put it back where it belonged. She stopped sewing to stare at the dress. How ridiculous. Of all the things she had worn during those times — and this was the only item that had survived? Well, that wasn't true. Her pants she wore to garden were the same she had worn once, as was the white blouse that had gone with it. Even her warrior gear as king had been left abandoned on the beach below twelve years ago. She wondered what had happened to the fine leather pieces. Perhaps some passerby took them and repurposed them. She mused that that would mean both of her wedding dresses were gone: the one her father had spent a great deal of money on was at the bottom of the ocean, and the outfit she'd actually gotten married in had been forgotten on a beach during her honeymoon.

Her sad thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the back door shutting. She looked up just as Henry moved to sit beside her. She started at her sewing again, waiting to see what it is he needed. He was more or less finished with school now. He was fluent in Latin and halfway fluent in Greek already, with a disturbingly vast knowledge of literature, especially sea myths. Most days he stayed home with her and helped her tend to the chores around the house. This was one of the rare days where they were not working from dawn until dusk keeping things in order. "Mum,"

"Yes dear?"

"I'm going to join the royal navy."

She didn't skip a beat in her sewing, "No you're not."

"I've already signed up. They're sending me out on the _Steadfast_ tomorrow, bright and early." Henry informed her. This got her attention, as he knew it would. She tied off the thread and cut it off her needle, plunging the needle into the pin cushion beside her. "You can't. You'll have to tell them you aren't going."

"I can't do that mum, you know I can't."

"You're still just a boy!" She argued angrily.

"I'm twelve now, mum. I'm old enough to enlist."

"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should." She protested irritably. "Why are you doing this Henry?"

"Because the only way I'm going to be able to free father is if I know how to make my way around the sea, and the navy will show me the way." He insisted.

"Unless of course you get sick and die within the first three months, which, by the way, happens all the time." She argued tempestuously.

"I know the risks. But it's worth it if it means bringing father home." Henry said calmly, set in his convictions and beliefs as stubbornly as his mother. She knew better than to remind him that his father was never going to come home. So instead, she just shook her head, "I don't want you to leave." She said softly. "Henry you're all I have." Normally she would never have been so brutally honest with her child, but he was barely a child anymore. Henry reached out and wrapped his arms around his mother, hugging her tight. She held her son in her arms as if her life depended on it, and in many ways it felt like it did. "I'm sorry, mother. I know you don't want me to go. But I have to."

She ran a hand across his fine, brunette hair, "I know. I know you do." She gently kissed the top of his head, "Promise you'll write me as often as you can."

He smiled warmly, taking one last moment to appreciate everything about his mother. "I promise. I'll write." She was so warm, and he knew that he was going to miss her reassuring arms around him, the smell of earth and sea that existed on her skin.

* * *

The next day, she felt she could hardly take her child to the port; it would feel too much like walking him to the gallows. But she knew that he would be disappointed if she didn't. She resolved with all her might to do her best for her son. She packed him plenty of clothes, including fifteen pairs of thick wool socks, some of which she had made herself. As they walked out of their home and headed toward town she did her best to warn him, "It's really hard to live on a ship. You're going to be hungry a lot, I'm afraid. Try not to eat anything moldy or rotten if you can ever help it. Do not drink sea water, or urine, no matter how much it seems tempting." Henry looked up at his mother in shock, "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Thirst is a powerful need. When desperate, sailors have been known to do such things, although it usually kills them." Elizabeth explained simply. Henry seemed to turn a bit green at the thought. "Sickness will haunt you and will be waiting for you in every corner. Don't let the rats bite you, feed them your rotted bread if you want to kill them faster. If you're lucky, the captain will have a dog to hunt them out, but it's not likely. Wear those socks, at least two or three pairs at a time. It could save your feet and your life. Oh, and one last thing," She said as they neared the port. She made an uncomfortable expression, "I don't want to tell you this, but I know I ought."

"It's alright, mum, you can tell me." He assured her.

She looked down at her young son anxiously and then averted her eyes toward the horizon instead, "Navy sailors tend to make port and … will keep company with loose women. Avoid those women at all cost if you don't want their diseases."

Henry did not fully understand what she meant by "loose women" but he decided to translate this confusing advice as "ignore women" and nodded his understanding. Elizabeth and Henry walked a few more paces to the docks. The Steadfast stood high and proud at the end of the first dock. She paused with him, ignoring the sailors darting past them toward the ship. She knelt before her son, and realized he had grown tall enough that for her to kneel meant she had to look up at her boy. She tucked his hair behind his ears with a sad sigh. "You can always come home to me, Henry. I will never shut the door on you." She reminded him, hoping it would encourage him to come home soon enough.

He smiled at his mother, "I know that. I'll come home as soon as I've found father."

This hurt her unbearably so, but she could not show it. She smiled up at her son, "I love you so much, Henry. Be safe."

"I love you too." He reached out and hugged her one last time. She tried to commit to memory how small he was in her arms. She didn't know when he would return, but it was doubtless that he would have grown dramatically. She kissed his cheek before letting him go. She waved as he boarded the ship and disappeared out of sight. She only allowed herself to go home when the ship had sailed off. Her tears fell faster than she thought possible.

* * *

 _A/N: Well ... I wasn't planning on writing any letters for this one, but I will be now! Also, Elizabeth's advice is an actual representation of what sailors were accustomed to encountering at sea. Let's just say the films (and my fanfictions by default as well) paint a more glamorous picture of sailing/piracy._


End file.
